A blog about living with chronic physical conditions. And if you stop and think about it, almost everybody is chronic in one way or another. Even if it's just the chronic art of getting older.

Thursday, August 23, 2007

The Chronic Life Begins

The sun was shining the day the doctor made me officially chronic. I had walked into his office a couple months earlier with a sound self-diagnosis made with the expert assistance of WebMD.com and my sister: Depression. It was a good self-DX and explained the months of increasing fatigue and brain fog that had resulted in the loss of most of my writing contracts and general confusion and anger in my household. After all, when a person's mental faculties go missing for a couple months, people start to wonder why.

So there I was, proclaiming myself depressed and holding out my hand for Prozac or some similar instant relief pill, ready to medicate myself back to normalcy. I left the office with my prescription, but only after leaving a bucket of blood over at the lab.

"Take the pills and rest as much as you can for the next few weeks. Stay in bed most of the time," the good doctor said. Yeah, right.... stay in bed in November. But as it turned out, staying in bed was about all I felt like doing. I took my little pills and I slept. As the month wore on, the depression I was so sure I was e xperiencing lifted, and the fatigue deepened. And a nagging sort of fingernails-on-a-chalkboard feeling had settled into my shoulders and scalp.

"You may need another antidepressant," my sister counselled. "Sometimes it takes months to find the right one for you."

Early in December I walked back into the good doctor's office and informed him that I was no longer depressed, matter of fact my mood was downright jolly. But my body was sicker than ever.

"Well, that's because you have Lupus," he said. He smiled. We laughed a bit. Woo hoo, hehe. Lupus. What a relief! The diagnosis -- which changed slightly in later months -- explained a lot, including the horrible itching in my lower back and arms. Not to worry, he said, take this little pill and this little pill and you'll be fine. I'll send you to the rheumatologist and he'll tell you what you need to do and everything will be fine."

It all seemed so simple. When I told my husband over lunch that I had Lupus, he was relieved. I was relieved. The dark cloud of the past few months lifted. We had a name for the reason I was falling asleep every time I sat down. I had pills to take, a specialist to see. Life would be normal again in just a few weeks.

I won't bore you with the details -- yet (smirk). Just know this: that was December 2002. Today is August 23, 2007 and the only way I can call my life "normal" is because the definition of that word has changed in my household.

So I'm chronic. And if you've read this far you may be chronic too. Maybe we can ride this beast together for a little while. Check back here for more posts. I'll try to write every day or so. But you guys -- you chronic lifers -- know how it is. When you're chronic, all promises and plans come with a disclaimer: "Promises will be kept, plans will be carried out, chronic condition permitting."

3 comments:

I'm glad I took the time to read your story from the beginning. I will be back soon to read more. I love the way you write, as if you are chatting with me. You write from the heart and soul. Thank you. I know at this point how you feel. I was shocked when told I had a "chronic" condition and then I was in denial. This was not me.

Hope you are still keeping up the good fight. I am lupus / Sjogrens person as well...given buckets of blood, scanned, and drugged nearly to oblivion. Rituxan saved my life with no side effects. Remission does not last forever (about 15 months for me), but then I have a new series of infusions. I guess it might not work forever, but I will take all the good days I can. Best wishes, Fran